


we get a little bit alone sometimes (and i miss you again)

by stargraves



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, How Do I Tag, Kissing, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargraves/pseuds/stargraves
Summary: Osamu gets a call from Suna way too early in the morning and shows up at his house like a good shoujo protagonist. They're both too good at hiding their feelings, but that problem is solved rather quickly.Ft: cranberry juice, playing with hair, and a dash of frustration.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 159





	we get a little bit alone sometimes (and i miss you again)

**Author's Note:**

> Have fun reading this incredibly self indulgent fic which was born because of the astonishing lack of osasuna content. TAKE ALL THE CLICHES--
> 
> Title is from "21" by Gracie Abrams.

It's almost 3 AM when Osamu's phone starts ringing. He accepts the call without thinking, his brain lagging behind his actions. "Osamu?" The caller whispers, the relief in his voice tangible. 

"Oh--Suna. Yeah. What's up?" Osamu's voice gets caught in his throat, bleary from lack of use. The call goes silent, soft static from the other end the only indicator that Suna was still there. "Suna?"

"Sorry," Suna says abruptly. "I'm not sure why I called. Did I wake you up? Sorry. I'll hang up now."

"No, don't hang up. I was already awake. Business stuff, y'know?" Osamu lets out a soft laugh. It's only half a lie. He had fallen asleep at his desk while taking care of the "business stuff," but Suna didn't need to know that. "Somethin' happened, right?"

"Wait, did you think I was one of your associates calling?" Suna snorts, ignoring the question.

"Well, usually my associates don't call me at 3 in the mornin', so no, not really." Suna huffs on the other end in lieu of a laugh. Osamu rests his head back on his desk. Suna's voice sounded terribly tired. Sad? 

"It's that late?" Suna asks. "I should probably go then. I think--I shouldn't have called now. Didn't mean to call you this late. Sorry."

"Sunarin." Osamu laughs. His brother is sleeping in the living room, so he doesn’t speak louder than a whisper. Suna's breaths are shallow on the other end. "Since when do ya apologize this much? Ya must have called for a reason."

"No, seriously. It was an accident." Suna's voice is clearer now, less tired and more composed. 

"Yeah?" Osamu muses. 

"Yeah," Suna agrees quickly.

"Didn't sound like an accident to me. And...if yer not too tired, then couldn't we talk for a bit? We haven't met up since your season ended." Osamu poses the question tentatively, holding his breath. "I know it's really late. Or really early. But I miss you."

"No!" Suna says loudly. Osamu recoils from the phone, heart sinking. "No," he repeats in a softer voice. "Not right now. I'll call you later. Bye." 

The call is over before Osamu has a chance to protest, and he is left feeling more than a little bit irritated. What kind of best friend was he if he scared Suna off like that when he obviously wanted to say something? Osamu stands up, groaning as he stretches out the cramps in his neck and shoulders. He pulls a sweatshirt over his body, shivering at the cold. He's not quite sure what to do. He could call Suna back. Beg him to just talk about what the hell was wrong. Or he could visit Suna in a more acceptable hour of the day, maybe when the rest of the country is awake too. 

Osamu shuffles into his kitchen, glancing at the remainder of the onigiri he had made the previous night for his brother. Atsumu had seemed off, too. Normally he'd inhale all of it, making obscene noises just because he knew they got on Osamu's nerves. It had turned out that he had visited because he was heartsick and didn't know what to do. He had sniffled into his food, mumbling about an "Omi-kun" and stupid perfect curly black hair. To be perfectly honest, Osamu had stopped listening after Atsumu started talking to his food. Now his brother was stretched out on the couch, his face masked with unhappiness.

Osamu sweeps the container of onigiri into a cloth bag, making his decision in a split second. He splashes water on his face and runs his fingers through the tangle of dark hair poking up from his head in impossible directions. Quickly, he scribbles a note on his brother’s arm with a marker, letting him know that he’s at Suna‘s and will be back later. As he's walking to Suna's place, the thought strikes him that maybe wearing slippers for this occasion isn't really the best choice. The streets are nearly empty at this time of night, golden car headlights washing over the road every once in a while and disappearing just as fast as they appear. He hums quietly to fill up the silence. It's cold, the sharp February wind slicing into his skin. He burrows into his sweatshirt, hugging the bag of onigiri to his chest and pulling his hood farther over his eyes.

He doesn't stop to think about the possibility that Suna won't let him in. Or he won't answer the door this late at night, or he'll close the door in Osamu's face. He shuts his mind off briefly, gathering up his courage as he stands outside of Suna's apartment. He double checks the apartment number, just to be safe. 

He presses the doorbell quickly, tapping his foot as he waits for Suna to answer. This was definitely a bad idea. Yeah, impulsive decisions are his forte, but sometimes they’re not the best decision, and Osamu’s pretty scared right now. _It’s just Suna. Just Suna_ , he reminds himself. The door opens just a crack, letting a sliver of light illuminate the dark hallway. 

"Uh, hi." Osamu says, cringing at himself. He meets Suna's tired eyes and feels something inside his lungs collapse.

"Hi," Suna says back, sounding way too amused. "Wow, I guess you weren't lying when you said you missed me."

Osamu gives him a hard stare. "Shut up. Are ya gonna let me in or what?" Suna smirks and steps out of the doorway, gesturing to him to walk in. He prods Osamu’s arm as he enters.

"Dang, Miya, I think you might've eaten one too many onigiri," He jokes, eyes narrowing in mirth. 

"Wh-this is all muscle, Suna!" Osamu protests, scowling.

"Yeah, sure." Osamu bumps Suna's shoulder indignantly as they enter his living room.

"Spare me!" Suna snickers, jabbing his fingers into Osamu's sides in retaliation. If this were anyone else, Osamu would have done the same, welcoming a tickle battle better suited for grade schoolers. But this is Suna, and he's been crushing on Suna for nine years, so maybe it's not the best idea to get all touchy-feely with him right now. He grabs Suna's hands and removes them from his sides gently. 

"Ok, so why'd ya call me at 3 AM, and why d'you look so sad?" Osamu asks, maybe a bit too bluntly. He doesn’t really care. He flops down on Suna's couch, closing his eyes. A long moment passes before he hears an answer.

"Why did you appear outside my apartment at 3 AM?" 

Osamu laughs, not finding it really funny at all. "'Cause I missed ya. And ya called me, sounding like...I dunno. Like ya were out of breath. But worse. Then ya hung up just like that, so I was worried." Osamu fights the embarrassment that is trying to crawl up his throat. 

"I didn't sound like that. And the call was an accident." Suna's voice is closed off. Guarded. Osamu sighs as he sits back up, watching as Suna cleans up the mess on his kitchen table. 

"Sunarin...what happened here?" Osamu's question almost sounds scared behind the laugh. Red liquid is spilled all over the table, and a glass is laying on its side in the puddles. He makes his way to where Suna is wiping off the liquid. "Were ya drinking?"

"Just cranberry juice," Suna says sheepishly. "I'm a pro athlete, can't go too far even when I feel like letting loose a bit."

Osamu hums in understanding. "Did it help?"

"What?"

"The cranberry juice. Is it possible to get drunk on it?" Osamu looks up at Suna impishly.

"Not sure yet. Wanna give it a try?" Osamu shrugs before nodding. Suna fills a glass with the blood-red drink and hands it to him with a somewhat scheming smile.

"Ya didn't poison this or anythin', didja?" Osamu asks skeptically. Suna looks at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, never," he says, smiling wide. Osamu doesn’t find that particularly reassuring.

Still, he takes a small sip before chugging the whole thing down. Suna looks on in mild horror.

"Hm," Osamu says, making a face. "Interesting. Weird smell." Suna bursts into laughter, leaning over and wiping off a bit of juice dribbling onto Osamu's chin with a napkin. Osamu schools his expression into an unaffected grin, forcing down the heat that is trying to paint his face redder than the cranberry juice. He leans back into the couch, waiting for Suna to join him. 

"Wanna watch something?" Suna asks, diving onto the couch. He rests his head on Osamu's lap and lifts his legs onto the armrest. Relax, Osamu. This is normal. Act normal.

"Sure. Do ya wanna talk about anythin'?"

"Not really."

"Still don't know why ya called me at 3 am?"

"Nope."

"Okay. I'm gonna get more juice. And the onigiri." Osamu tries to get up, pushing Suna's head off his lap, but his friend groans and pulls him back onto the couch. 

"Nooo, you're comfortable! We can eat later." He whines. 

"I come all this way just for you, and you repay me by using me as a pillow." Osamu's voice is deadpan. 

"Stop talking, pillow." Suna turns on the TV and heads to Netflix, choosing a random episode of an anime about volleyball. "Heyy, Osamu, are we Netflix and chilling?" 

"You wish," Osamu snorts. He brushes a strand of hair out of Suna's face lightly. Suna leans into his touch, sighing almost imperceptibly. Osamu thinks he might have just short-circuited, swearing in his head as his hand cards through into the black mass on Suna's head. Combing through the strands, petting his head lightly. His hair is soft. Osamu is aware that this isn't something that platonic friends usually do. He pretends that he isn't.

Some time passes before either of them speak again. The end credits are playing on the episode, heroic music swelling around them. 

"Osamu?" Suna says, so quietly that he almost can't be heard. Osamu hears him. 

"Hm?" 

Suna is looking up at him, eyes glazed over with sleep. "Thanks for being here. I feel a lot better."

"Good," Osamu replies, because he doesn't know what else to say. He's still playing with Suna's hair absently. 

"I'm gonna sleep now."

"Okay."

Later, when Suna's breathing has slowed down and his chest is rising and falling steadily, Osamu lifts him gently and carries him to his bed. For all his needling about Osamu gaining weight, Suna is no feather either. Osamu sets him down on the covers and tucks the blankets around him, hand brushing ever so lightly across Suna's cheek. Suna mumbles incoherently. 

Osamu would be lying if he said he didn't look at Suna's face for longer than necessary, smiling at the sight of his sleeping friend. He looked heartwrenchingly peaceful. Osamu turns away. Maybe he takes a picture or three, but those are mostly just blackmail material. "I could draw on yer face," he says quietly. 

"I love you," Suna mumbles in his sleep. Osamu is silent for a moment before laughing, bittersweet and incredulous.

"Love ya back."

In the morning, Suna would find his kitchen spotless except for a bag labeled "Onigiri Miya" on the countertop. A hot pink sticky note from Osamu is stuck to his bathroom mirror. Osamu is not in Suna's home.

_Sometimes I go blurry-eyed_  
_Small talk and you tell me that you're on fire_  
_Lights on and it's black and white,_

_I couldn't stay forever_

Suna figures that it might be possible to get intoxicated on cranberry juice after all, because all of last night is frustratingly fuzzy. That's usually never a good sign. He knows Osamu came over. They watched some anime, Suna fell asleep, Osamu played with his hair--Oh...oh, gods. Suna wants to cry. 

"I could draw on yer face," he remembers Osamu joking. At least he hoped he was joking. Suna patted his face in alarm, stumbling into his bathroom to make sure there was nothing on his face. He sighed in relief before picking the sticky note off his mirror. 

_Suna- don't think you're off the hook just because I cleaned up your mess. You still have to tell me what that call was about. Hope the onigiri I brought hasn't gone stale. See you soon. PS: I stuck this on your mirror because that way I know you won't miss it._

Suna wants to call him a jerk, but he can't, because the note is signed with a messy doodle of an onigiri and he's in lo—and his best friend is too much of a dork. 

"I love you." Suna remembers someone saying all of a sudden. No...he said that. To Osamu. He buries his face in his hands again, bright red with mortification. Did he say that when Osamu was still there? Did Osamu hear? He searched his memories desperately for what happened after that. Suna's face twists into a confused expression. If his memory served him well, Osamu was contemplating whether or not he should draw on Suna's face like a ten-year-old at a sleepover. Then the "I love you" slipped out.

"Love ya back," Osamu had said, a hint of some unplaceable emotion darkening the words. Suna could worry about that later.

Why, of all times had the words slipped out right after Osamu threatened some childish prank on him? Where was the logic in that? Suna knew how to control himself better than that. He blames the lack of sleep and too much bright red fruit juice. What was going to happen now? Would they pretend nothing happened and carry on as best friends?

What does “Love ya back” even mean? It sounds so noncommittal, like a sentiment shared between friends who are friends and nothing more. Suna can’t remember what it sounded like anymore. He’s beginning to doubt that Osamu even uttered those words.

Maybe none of that had happened. Maybe Suna had just fallen asleep and Osamu had written his note and left. Speaking of—had Osamu carried him back to bed? And tucked him in? Suna is going to scream, he really is. Why couldn’t he have just left him on the couch? Suna shivers as he remembers the feeling of slender fingers ghosting through his hair. He’s in way too deep.

Fine. He loves Osamu. He’s in love with his best friend. Has been since their second year at Inarizaki. So what? It’s not like anything can be done about that. He’s too much of a coward to risk breaking their friendship, and besides, if Osamu hadn’t liked him in all these years, there is no way he’d suddenly be in love just because Suna is. Either that or he’s just even better at hiding it than Suna is. Turns out Suna isn’t as great at secrets as he thought he was, considering the phone call last night.

The phone call, Suna groans inwardly. What was he thinking? He’d felt so alone and heartsick that the weight of it was crushing his chest. So he did the first thing he could think of, and called Osamu. Maybe calling the person who’s unknowingly causing you all this pain isn’t the best idea, but of course he picked up. He couldn’t have just missed the call and spared Suna the embarrassment. It was a well-known fact that the Miya twins were complete idiots, but they could be unnervingly perceptive sometimes. All the time. It was the worst. Suna had gasped out Osamu’s name, not knowing what to expect from the other side but hoping desperately that his best friend was there.

And Osamu’s voice, layered with sleep and concern, had said his name back. Suna nearly melted before realizing what he was doing and that he was in the middle of a huge mistake. When he tried to back out, Osamu questioned him further, and finally Suna panicked and hung up, regretting his hastiness instantly.

Oh, Suna really is no good at this whole “denial” thing. Sure, he’s done it for years, but his resolve is breaking, and all he really wants is to be near Osamu again, cool fingers in Suna's hair and insufferable grin on his face. He jerks his hand back from his phone, because he knows that he’ll do something stupid like call Osamu again if he isn’t careful.

Turns out Suna doesn’t have to do anything stupid, because Osamu does it for him. Suna is lying on his bed, sleepless and exhausted when his phone lights up and starts vibrating. He nearly falls off his bed in his haste to pick it up. His face softens when he sees Osamu’s picture on his screen, sliding his thumb across it to accept the call.

“Oh wow, that was pretty fast,” Osamu teases. Suna sputters.

“I couldn’t sleep!” He says indignantly. 

“Kaay,” Osamu says lazily. 

“So what's your excuse for calling me at 3 am, Miya Osamu-kun?” Suna can’t help but ask. 

“Missed ya.”

Suna can feel his face growing hot in the dark. How was Osamu able to say things like that without batting an eye? “Couldn’t miss me at any other time of the day?”

“It’s not like ya were sleepin’,” Osamu says. He has a point. 

“Wanna come over?” Suna says before he can stop himself. Immediately, he groans in his mind. He braces himself for the barrage of teasing remarks that Osamu would definitely hurl at him, but it never comes.

“Sure,” Osamu says instead. 

“Really?”

“Unless ya don’t want me to.”

“No...no. Come over. I have food.” Suna can imagine the megawatt smile that flashes across Osamu’s face when he says that. 

“Ya know me too well, Sunarin.”

They’re still talking on the phone when Osamu appears at his door ten minutes later, clad in the most oversized sweatshirt known to man. Suna can’t help but poke at the thing when he sees it, almost falling over with suppressed laughter. He looks like he’s drowning in the sweater. Suna’s not complaining, though. Osamu removes his hands like he had done the night before and pushes into the apartment, pushing the hood off his head. Suna wonders how he could even see with it covering his eyes the whole time. 

“Food,” Osamu demands, only half-joking. Suna shakes his head fondly. 

“Pudding in the fridge,” He replies. Osamu lets out a delighted whoop. He hugs Suna quickly before hurrying into the kitchen. “Yer the best, Suna!” He calls behind him. Suna stands frozen by the door, blinking twice before closing the door and spinning on his heel, huffing out an amused sigh. 

“Glutton,” He taunts under his breath. 

“Yer the one feedin’ the glutton,” Osamu shoots back, words muffled by the pudding in his mouth that he is talking around. 

“Can’t argue with that,” Suna laughs. Osamu flashes him a perfectly content smile. Suna can feel his heart melting. Since when was he this much of a softie? 

They end up on the sofa again, watching another episode of the volleyball anime they had started the night before. Suna wishes he could focus on it, but his eyes feel heavy as Osamu pets his hair again. Head on Osamu’s lap, pulse slowly steadying, the familiar sound of sneakers squeaking on a volleyball court lulls him almost to sleep.

Soon, he feels Osamu shifting, trying to maneuver Suna’s head off his lap without waking him up. He shouldn’t worry about it too much, since he’s still a little bit awake. 

“I dunno why yer staying up so late if ya can fall asleep this fast,” Osamu mutters, standing next to the couch and leaning over Suna. He hesitates for a second. Suna has to remind himself to keep breathing. 

“It’s only ‘cause you’re here,” Suna hears himself saying, his words slurred together. Osamu’s breath catches in his throat. Suna opens his eyes, smiling slightly when he sees Osamu kneeling front of the couch and meeting his eyes. He looks hurt, for some reason.

“Rin,” Osamu says lowly. “D’ya hafta keep sayin’ stuff like that when yer half asleep and I can’t tell if ya mean ’em or not?”

Suna tries to sit up, but Osamu pushes him back down gently. “Never mind. Shoulda let ya sleep.”

“Stuff like what?” Suna asks, suddenly feeling completely awake. Osamu looks away. 

“I love you,” Osamu says under his breath. “Stuff like that.” When their eyes meet again, Osamu’s are burning. Suna refuses to back away from his stare, matching it with one equally intense. 

“So I did say it,” Suna says, mostly to himself. He’s not completely sure what to do now. “I didn’t imagine you saying it back?”

“No. I said it back, but I thought you were asleep.” Osamu admits.

“Did you think I didn’t mean it?”

“You were sleeptalking.”

“Osamu.” Suna’s voice is softer than it’s ever been before. 

“What, Rin?” Osamu almost snarls. “Yeah, maybe I thought ya didn’t mean it. Ya coulda been sayin’ it to anyone.”

“I was saying it to you.” 

Osamu’s hands are back in his hair, weaving through the strands, cupping his jaw. “Are ya sure?” He asks, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. 

“Positive,” Suna murmurs. Osamu leans forward and kisses him on the lips. The touch is so soft it’s barely there. Suna pulls him back, closing his eyes and kissing him again. Osamu sighs as Suna pulls away. 

“I’ve been waiting so long for that, I thought it was never gonna happen,” Osamu says, almost to himself. He flops on the ground next to the couch, staring at the ceiling. 

“How long?” Suna is almost afraid to ask.

“Since we were second years.”

“You...Miya Osamu, I cannot believe you.”

“How long have ya been in love with me then?” Osamu asks, looking up at him. 

“Second year.”

Osamu groans, rolling over on his stomach and thudding his forehead against the ground. “Yer the worst,” he says, his voice muffled.

“So are you,” Suna mutters. 

“Ya had to get drunk on cranberry juice before ya could spill yer feelings?” Osamu asks incredulously.

“Look who's talking! If I hadn’t done that, you’d probably pine away for another ten years!” Suna punches Osamu’s shoulder lightly. 

“I wasn’t pining, you were pining!”

“At least I admit it,” Suna grins. 

“S’that why ya called me? ‘Cause ya were feeling heartsick?” Osamu looks up at him curiously. 

“Maybe. It’s not my fault you’re a coward.”

“You are too.”

“But you more,” Suna says, sticking his tongue out immaturely. 

Osamu snorts, sitting up on the floor and leaning his head on the couch. Suna reaches out tentatively and combs his fingers through the mop of dark hair. Osamu relaxes into his touch, smiling happily. 

They fall asleep like that, Suna’s hand tangled in Osamu’s hair, Osamu leaning on the couch and smiling. There is no chance that they won’t both have neck cramps in the morning, but they are tired enough not to care. 

They’re not brave enough to say something like “everything will be okay because they have each other”, but as the sun rises and casts an almost-perfect spotlight on their waking forms, they think that they’ve waited long enough to believe it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was a fun read! Is it too late to mention that this is my first fanfic and that it's also virtually unedited? I'll try to go back and edit ASAP. Also--what even is pacing and proper characterization? Don't know them. Sorry if the boys are terribly OOC. Feel free to leave suggestions in the comments! Kudos and comments are always appreciated and cherished. 
> 
> Um...edit a few months later: sorry, but I totally lied about editing this asap. This will probably never get the edits it deserves, because I can't stand reading more than a paragraph of it now. Side effects of impulsively posting something you wrote at the buttcrack of dawn? I won't delete this because I'm sentimental and some of you enjoyed this (i think) but I promise my general writing ability is better than this oh gosh
> 
> Sorry for the absurdly long notes, and stay gold!


End file.
